


Slide Into Your DMs

by RedLeaderfic



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Corey's Ridiculous Hipster Beer, Episode Tag, Kayfabe Compliant, M/M, Pining, Say Something Tom, Treat, Wanting Things That Are Bad For You
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-16 21:17:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11261169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedLeaderfic/pseuds/RedLeaderfic
Summary: When Corey Graves can't sleep, ain't no one getting to sleep.Or at the very least Tom isn't.





	Slide Into Your DMs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [APgeeksout](https://archiveofourown.org/users/APgeeksout/gifts).



> Happy NoFM! This is TECHNICALLY cheating because it's not set in NXT but close enough, right? Have great reveals day!

Tom forced one eye open when his DM notification went off for the sixth time in five minutes. The clock on the hotel nightstand blinked 3:05 and Tom rolled back over, he’d only been at the hotel a little over two hours and asleep for less than one. Twitter could wait until morning. Twitter could wait until the heat death of the universe if it kept waking him up at three AM like this.

*buzz*

*buzz*

Tom was going to just let whoever this was tire themselves out.

*buzz*

_Until the heat death of the universe._

*buzz**buzz**buzz*

Tom snatched the phone off the nightstand and opened the app to find a looooong string of DMs from Corey Graves which...all right, it wasn’t that surprising Corey was behind this once Tom thought about it for more than two seconds. He didn’t know why Corey was still up, they both had a meeting for 205 Live first thing in the morning but he guessed Corey had decided to share the pain.

@TomPhillipsWWE: Go to sleep

Awake and apparently staring right at his phone, because the answer came almost as soon as Tom hit send.

@WWEGraves: Knew you couldn’t ignore me forever.

@WWEGraves: So do you think the stain on the ceiling here looks like the Pens logo or not?

Tom sighed and scrolled back through his DMs; apparently Corey had been at this for over a half hour already, starting off with a “You up?” but quickly moving onto complaining about the hotel’s décor and livetweeting the infomercial he’d decided it was vital Tom know about.

@TomPhillipsWWE: You cannot be this bored

@WWEGraves: Don’t tell me how bored I can be

@TomPhillipsWWE: We have so much to do tmw

Corey answered with another picture of the suspect stain on his ceiling, this time from close enough that Tom guessed he’d stood on the bed to get it. When Tom didn’t answer right away Corey started the livetweeting back up again, going rapid fire enough the phone almost buzzed out of Tom’s hand. Corey tweeted like he talked and Tom could hear his voice as he read, not pausing for breath between words. Probably pacing too, the way he did when he was anxious for the segment transitions to sound smooth so during break downs before a show he would make Tom practice them with him until his perfectionist heart was satisfied.

Tom put the phone on silent and got dressed. There was a microbrewery with a twenty-four hour walk up window two blocks from the hotel, something Tom only knew because last time they’d been here Corey had mourned that the schedule was too tight for him to fit in the full tasting tour. Tom ordered a six pack and tried not to doze off as the window guy extoled the beer’s every limited edition virtue – extra premium ingredients, hops rare as diamonds, only brewed in the light of the full moon, Tom lost track after a while. While waiting Tom checked his phone and saw that Corey was still at it. He’d even called once. Tom changed the order to a twelve pack and told himself the next time they rode together he would make Corey cover all the gas station fill ups to make up for it. He probably wouldn’t really, but it was a nice thought.

A few minutes later Tom knocked on Corey’s room door, smiling to himself when the music he could just barely hear got turned off in a hurry. “Yeah?” 

“You decent?”

Tom heard Corey’s relieved laugh right through the door. “Thought you were security telling me to quiet down. And I’m never decent.” And Tom suspected he was telling the truth because it took a minute for the door to open, Corey suddenly slouching against the door frame with dark circles under his eyes and a just slightly fake smile on his face. “I was starting to worry you’d finally blocked me.”

Tom was never really prepared for dressed down Corey no matter how often he got to see it. Corey had thrown on a loose tank that showed off all of his art running up and down his arms and workout sweats that sat low on his hips, his hair hanging loose around his face. Tom hoped that initial reaction didn’t show on his face as he held up the beers with a shrug. “You wouldn’t let me sleep.”

Corey’s face lit up and that went a long way toward making Tom feel better about what his credit card bill would look like later that month. “Is that the special edition?”

“That’s what the man told me.”

“I thought they’d stopped selling it for the year!” Corey said, grabbing the case and putting on the room desk before hunting around for a bottle opener. 

“Two more days,” Tom said, sitting on the edge of the unmade bed. 

“ _Great_ timing, then.” Before Tom could even get his shoes off Corey threw himself on the bed next to him and handed him a bottle, clinked them together in a quick toast and downed half of his own beer in one long swallow. 

Tom settled on his side of the bed and took a sip. Not so bad, he supposed. “So what _was_ all that on Raw tonight?”

Corey shook his head. “Weird night. Weird night.” He finished off the bottle and got up for another one. “I can’t tell you everything,” he said, stretching back out. “I have to protect my sources.” Tom knew he must have pulled a face at that because Corey insisted, “I _have_ sources.”

“I would never ask you to risk your journalistic integrity,” Tom said, ceding the argument before it could start. 

Corey seemed satisfied at that and started going through Raw from the beginning, breaking it down the way they used to do with post shows after Takeovers. He lasted maybe ten minutes before he had to get up and pace the length of the room, talking with his hands and running through two more beers while he walked Tom through the show. Tom just leaned against the headboard and watched him, taking note when he left out something significant but not commenting on it. Tom had known Corey Graves more than long enough to know when he needed to talk himself out.

Corey was just barely at slurring when he finally sat back down on the bed. “And did you see Cass get in my face like that?”

 _Here we go._ And of course Tom had, he’d watched the whole show. “The dangers of journalism.”

“I hope he gets fined. He’s not supposed to touch me.”

“He didn’t touch you. He threatened you. I get threatened all the time. Last week Owens told me after that show that if I didn’t step up my game he was going to pick me up and put me in the crowd where I belong.”

“You always take that so personally,” Corey said, waving the complaint away. “That’s how Kevin says hi.”

“It didn’t feel like a hi.”

Corey stared into space for a few seconds, tapping his now empty bottle against the edge of the bed. “My heart when Cass showed up like that, though,” Corey said, drumming one hand against his chest. “Oof. Can’t remember the last time I felt like that. For a second I really thought he was going to pick me up and throw me off the stage.”

Tom waited but Corey turned on the TV and got up for another beer instead of saying anything else. He watched Corey’s face from the corner of his eye and took the bottle from his fingers when Corey’s eyelids started to droop. “Okay, sleep now,” he said, pulling the comforter down.

Tom knew Corey must already be almost there because he didn’t protest at all, curling up on his side when Tom threw the comforter back over him. Tom sat up against the headboard on and waited.

“I dreamed he did that tonight, y’know,” Corey murmured after long minutes, just barely audible. “Pitched me off the stage. I woke up right before I hit the floor.” He shook his head. “I was so disappointed when I woke up,” he said, dropping his voice even softer. “How many years is it going to fucking take before I stop having dreams like that?”

Tom shut his eyes tight. He desperately hoped that someday he would know what he was supposed to say. “Go to sleep,” was all the could think of, tucking the comforter around Corey’s shoulders. “We have a long day tomorrow.”

Corey nodded, his expression smoothing out as he buried all that down the way he was so good at. “Y’r a good friend,” he said, more than halfway asleep already. “I don’t know why you let me abuse you so much.”

“It makes for good TV.”

“I make for great TV,” Corey said, sounding more like himself. “Still shouldn’t let me, though.”

Tom waited until he was sure Corey was asleep before shifting him into a more comfortable position. He stroked his thumb down Corey’s inked up knuckles before shaking himself out of it and stretching flat on top of the comforter. Corey had made an off-hand comment once that he’d spent so much of his life packed three or four to a room on the road that he had a hard time sleeping alone now.

Corey’s hair was hanging in his face and Tom made himself stare at the ceiling to stop himself from brushing it back and waking him back up. “Huh,” he said looking at Corey’s mystery stain. “You know, it does kind of look like the Pens’ logo.”

He closed his eyes and listened to Corey breathing. He would pay for it tomorrow but for tonight Tom was more than okay with only one of them being able to sleep.


End file.
